Moonlight: Shadows
by lupinskitten
Summary: When a figure stumbles out of the darkness, Josef discovers that his very existence may never be the same. A Moonlight fanfic centered around a four hundred year old vampire. Please comment!
1. Chapter 1

God, how he hated Halloween. All the ghouls hanging from trees and the painted faces that leered out from behind darkened windows. The vampires with their oversized fangs and the fake blood dripping from the corners of their mouths bothered him the most. Vampires did not look like that, nor did they waltz around in dark capes with thick Transylvanian accents. At least the ones he knew didn't. They lived among the population as normal human beings. They were accountants, lawyers, and criminologists. They worked in bars and bakeries, and no one could tell who they were apart from other vampires: a glance, a shadow of understanding, a hint of a snarl behind the complexity of their intentionally monotonous lives. It was all a façade to fool the living, a successful one, for his network saw to it that no one who ever found out lived to tell the tale.

He hated the holiday yet was out on this spectacularly chilly night because he could not stand to be at home. Carmilla did not mind the dozens of children that made the long journey up his winding drive to ring the doorbell. She greeted them with a smile and pumpkin-shaped bucket of treats so sickeningly sweet they turned his stomach. So he had left her there to fuss over the little monsters, the fairies, the princesses and the Jedi knights, the Harry Potters and the hobbits. He hoped by the time he returned the last of them would be gone, the drive solitary in the moonlight that shimmered over the tips of the trees in a harvest shade.

Everyone acted peculiar when it was a full moon, mortal and immortal alike. The new vampires were nervous and hormonal; the older ones wise enough to know eyes would be watching them in the darkness. Humans even exhibited certain changes, as did the animals that prowled the streets, mangy alley cats and stray dogs. Josef liked neither but preferred cats, agile and possessed of sharp teeth often used to make a point.

Anyone else would have been intimidated in this part of LA, but nothing would dare confront him. Not even for the expensive car that surrounded him, the chrome newly polished and the engine purring like a kitten. He shifted into a higher gear and allowed the wind to caress his chiseled features. Anyone else would have been shivering, but vampires gathered their strength from the cold. It reminded him of the north, and that bitter night in which he had escaped the mob. Only once had he truly feared for his life, the gleam of the torches approaching the barn where he had fled. Sophistication had come much later, but there was still the primal urge to hunt, to kill, that had been with him since his rebirth. There had been no such holiday as Halloween when he had been turned, but it was the same night of the year. Maybe that's why he hated it, because its commercialization and cuteness, its emphasis on cheap thrills, said nothing about the hours of torment and pain in which he had suffered before awakening to a new world.

Josef was not attempting to concentrate on the world around him so much as escape it, but into the beam of his headlights stumbled a figure. Slamming on the brakes, he came within inches of hitting her, but she seemed unaware of that fact as she collapsed onto the pavement, holding together her coat. It was apparent immediately, a scent that could not be mistaken; it filled him with interest, with desire, with something as ferocious and dangerous as his past. _Blood_. It coated her hands and dripped down the side of her face, shimmering against her pale skin. If she was even aware of it, she took no notice.

He acted more on instinct than compassion, getting out to approach her. "Help me," she whispered, her voice no more than a whisper as she reached out toward him. Her fingertips glistened with blood as they fell into his, the scarlet substance seeping into his skin. For anyone else it might have been too much to bear, but Josef had spent centuries becoming accustomed to his impulses, learning to control and manipulate them. He regretted coming down this road. He wasn't some pathetic savior like Mick was, determined to prevent mankind from becoming its own destruction. Mick was all about helping people. Josef was all about looking after his own best interests.

It would have been too easy to just leave her there, and he considered it. He actually had gotten back into his car and reached for the gearshift when he paused, staring at the woman now lying unconscious in the road. Some unfathomable impulse would not allow him to leave her. Swearing under his breath, he got back out and placed her into the passenger seat. He couldn't take her to the hospital. There would be too many questions, even for someone with his political influence. But if he left her here, she would be dead by morning. Why he even cared escaped him. Humans were of no importance to him apart from as a source of life, a source of the blood he needed for survival. But he did not feed off of street urchins and runaways like so much of the trash in this city. The blood he drank was blue. It came from the finest families.

There was nothing for it but to take her to Mick. He lived in a ramshackle apartment building with a surprisingly decent interior. He kept vials of blood behind a cabinet in his shiny and much unused kitchen. Occasionally, he replaced the food that rotted in his refrigerator, when it became obvious to strangers that he was not eating any of it. He even soiled dishes so his housekeeper, who came once a week and was meticulous in her duties, would notice nothing unusual. That he slept in a refrigerator was odd, but there was a bed with appropriately rumpled sheets and beaten down pillows just for show. There was even a television, even though he rarely watched it. Nothing interested him apart from the living.

Pulling up outside the building, Josef grimaced to see a line of kids streaming in and out, in their festive costumes with bags bulging with candy that would rot their teeth and put far too much sugar into their blood. There was nothing worse than high-sugar blood, although occasional, pimply teenage vampires loved it. Young vampires had a hard enough time adjusting without adding insanity to the mix, but most of them thought blood tainted with Mickey's were fun. From what he remembered of the experience the one time he had taken a sip of a drug addict, Josef did not find it fun. He had woken up six hours later in an alley missing his wallet and with a mother of a migraine.

Leaving the girl slumped in the passenger seat, Josef pushed through the kids and ascended the stairwell. Tigger had just reached Mick's door, along with a ballerina and a witch, and all of them stared at him as he nudged them out of the way with one polished shoe and rapped loudly on the door. Nothing. No movement inside. Josef noticed the kids' scowling at him and said, "Beat it. Go scare a nun."

He had done that once. Great memories.

He banged on the door again. Where the hell was Mick? No, stupid question… he was out roaming the streets or worse yet, saving someone. "Son of a…" Josef muttered, and the kids ran to the next open door, where an old woman was smiling through oversized dentures as she handed out mars bars. He had hoped he could leave the girl here, have Mick turn her in, or do whatever it was he did with the dazed idiots that came to him for help. That's what he was owed for eighty years of babysitting. But no, the one time he needed to ask Mick for a favor, he wasn't home.

Pulling an embossed pen out of his pocket, Josef scribbled a note and slid it under the door.

The girl was still unconscious when he returned to the car, either that or a damn good faker. The two teens that had been considering stealing his hubcaps thought better of it and backed off as he came out the side stairwell. Josef gave a melodramatic sigh as he slid behind the wheel. The moon shimmered above them as the pavement flew beneath the wheels, city lanes eventually fading into the foothills. There were little lights strung up the length of his drive, but he was relieved to see that most of the trick or treaters had gone home for the night, leaving candy wrappers and fake bunny ears behind in the shrubbery. His house staff would have to get on that in the morning.

Parking in the circular driveway next to the fountain, the creak of the gates automatically closing behind them, a faint ray of light streamed out across the rocks as Carmilla came to the door, her shapely form garmented in his favorite blue dressing gown. She was a beautiful woman, more intelligent than most. Perhaps that was why he liked her. Well, not so much her as her vintage. Mick always turned down the offer of a drink, but Josef had found no better tasting blood in the county, and she was more than willing to share it.

"I was wondering when you would come back," she sad as he stepped out of the convertible, her shadow molding into the doorframe. Only the diamonds around her neck sparkled in the gloom. The house behind them was quiet, most of the staff having been sent home. Her perfume followed her form as she came down to meet him in her high heels, slipping her arms into his jacket for warmth. "I thought you might like to try something new tonight. Do you like cinnamon?"

It was on her lips when she kissed him, teasing him with her taste. Her fingernails withdrew as she stepped away from him, having caught sight of the shadow in the front seat of his car. "Josef, did you bring home a stray to play with?" There was a tinge of resentment to her voice. Carmilla did not like the other girls he occasionally brought home, though she knew none of them were for much more than a taste. She had the finest blood in California, and knew it, although when he said it did not carry quite the same meaning as when her father boasted of it on the golf course. Her father hated Josef.

Taking her hand and kissing her wrist just above the neat puncture marks he had left behind, Josef replied, "Now why would I do that? I found this one in the street. I couldn't just leave her there, and Mick wasn't home. We can lock her up in one of the spare bedrooms and call him tomorrow." He playfully nibbled on her ear and she relented, allowing him to bring the girl into the house. The romantic atmosphere softened the sharpness of the girl's features. She was prettier than he anticipated, but looked as though she had been worked over with someone's fist. He laid her none too gently on the bed.

Carmilla stood over her with her head tilted to one side, examining her with an expression of distaste. No doubt in all her years of being the pampered daughter of a multi-million dollar CEO, she had never seen violence done to anyone. She was far more innocent than she liked to let on, a fact that never escaped him, for whenever he tasted her he sensed her true emotions. It flowed through her veins, her past and glimpses of her future combined; the fact that she found him mysterious and dangerous, that there was a thrill of being powerless in his presence, that she was pleased to be acting in defiance of her father. To her, vampires were the elite, the royalty of mankind, a step above most mortals, something she secretly aspired to, but Josef knew he would never turn her. Turning her would be a waste of her existence, even if she wanted to remain young and beautiful forever.

Tossing his jacket over the back of the nearest chair, Josef was glad to be home. He had not expected to be gone as long as he had been, and the exhaustion of caring whether or not someone lived had made him ravenous. The room around him shimmered, and his mood changed to more predatory instincts. Carmilla came slowly out of the bedroom and closed the door behind her. She came so near to him that he could taste her long before he did, placing one arm around his neck and offering him the wrist of her other hand. His lips caressed it and then lifted to find hers.

Her heart beat against his chest as he drifted her backwards, sliding his fingers beneath the lace of her dressing gown and sliding it to the floor. Her beautiful, perfect arms went around his neck as he kissed her, tasting the eagerness on her lips. She never resisted as he lowered her to the couch, sweeping aside soft locks of thick dark hair before caressing her throat. His hand slid beneath her as he gently bit into her neck. He could taste cinnamon and just a hint of brandy. She stiffened just for a moment and then relaxed, threading her fingers through his hair. The haziness of her mood caused him to forget all of his anxieties, the fact that it was Halloween, that he had a girl of barely legal drinking age in the house, that Mick had not been where he was supposed to be.

The candles burned low and he was drowsy when he finished, falling asleep entangled in Carmilla's arms.


	2. Chapter 2

He did not remember how he had gotten to his room when morning came, only that the freezing cold of the central air lured him from sleep hours before it should have. Carmilla had gone to work at her high-profile law firm. She was a formidable attorney, charming, seductive, authoritative. She had been working for opposing counsel when he had first met her, a single glance across the expanse of room enough to fan the flame of interest. None of her associates knew where she spent her nights or her long weekends. None of them would have believed her. Josef had not been forced to pay out the exorbitant amount they had been trying to sue him for, and gained her in the bargain. It had been, he told Mick, a most successful venture.

The house was quiet throughout the day. His housekeeper kept similar hours to the rest of them and never came until late afternoon. Most of his security staff did the same, although there were all manner of alarms and a computer that kept constant records of vampire activity in the off hours. Nothing should have woken him and yet something had. It took him a moment to discover what it was. It was the sound of the refrigerator opening, the odd little sucking noise the door made when it pulled away from the suction that kept the cold in. He was unaccustomed to it, for only Carmilla ever ate anything and that was usually only in the evening, since she left too early each morning to bother with breakfast.

Emerging into the kitchen archway, his eyes traveled up the long bare legs to the black shorts and ripped top the girl was wearing as she eyed the contents of the refrigerator with distaste. For several blissful hours, he had forgotten her existence, or perhaps hoped the whole thing had been no more than an embarrassing nightmare.

"From the size of this place, I was expecting at least some decent horderves. What is this crap? Stuffed tomatoes? Crab feet? Sushi? Tell me you have an actual cook, and don't just rip things off from those stuffy award banquets you obviously go to. God, what is this stuff?" She had taken the lid off a container and shuddered when she smelled it, shoving it back into the meticulous contents of the refrigerator. Carmilla kept it as neat and orderly as she kept her appearance, or the sets of diamonds in her jewelry box.

The silver-plated clock on the far wall read a quarter past ten. The brandy that had tasted so good the night before had left after-effects in his blood. They would have been worn off by the time he rose, if he had been allowed to sleep his proper hours. It made the world much less attractive, and his annoyance that the girl was rummaging through his kitchen cabinets all the more profound. She looked about twenty or so, dangerously close to his favorite year, and had the natural graceful movements of a dancer. So far he had said nothing and she used his silence to remark, "I figure after last night, the least you can offer me is breakfast."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, I woke up in a strange house, with a strange man, in a strange bed. That must have been some roofie you slipped me at the rave."

This fact did not seem to concern her too much as she dumped a load of plastic containers onto the counter and started smelling the contents. Josef was annoyed that she would imply such a thing, no matter how devious the circumstances appeared. The last time he had attended a "rave" had been the seventies. He had woken up in a back ally missing just about everything of value that he owned, with a bullet in his chest. Normally, he was not one for vengeance, at least not of an obvious nature, but the ungrateful git that had shot him had worn quite a horrified expression when he met his fate. Even his blood tasted like white trash.

"I had nothing to do with whatever happened to you last night. I found you unconscious in the street. Are you telling me you don't remember any of it?"

"Not a thing." She cheerfully added a cherry to the ice cream sundae she had just finished making in one of his expensive crystal bowls and examined it from all angles. Just because he never ate didn't mean his cupboards weren't stocked with the finest crystal. Now and again, he would take one out and throw it just for the hell of it. Real crystal breaking sounded so much more impressive than mere glass.

Exasperated, Josef asked, "Then how do you explain the cut on your forehead?" He watched in amazement as she did not even bother to feel it. No doubt she had noticed it in the mirror in her bathroom when she had gotten cleaned up. He wondered why he had not heard the water running, and then remembered she was eight rooms down the hall. Naturally, his vampire senses would not have picked up on it, for it was normal, much more normal than rummaging through the kitchen for silverware.

Dropping another four cherries onto the mound of chocolate-saturated sweetness, she replied seriously, "Now _that _was not very nice of you. I can't have given you _that _much of a fight." Ignoring the incredulous look he was giving her, she pranced over to the couch and sat down with a plop, stretching her long legs out across the antique coffee table. Picking up the remote for the enormous flat screen television, she started flipping through channels as if she owned the place, or was visiting for the summer.

"What, exactly, do you think you are doing?" Josef could not halt the annoyance in his voice, for he was suddenly wishing he had either drained her the night before or left her right where he had found her.

"I'm going to eat my sundae and watch whatever trashy daytime programming is on. Then I am going to take a long shower in your steam room, and after that I'll decide whether or not to call the cops." She sent him a flamboyant grin over the side of the couch before jamming an enormous spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, making a loud sucking noise as she pulled the spoon back out. There was an immediate squeal as all the cold rushed to her head, but Josef had reached for the phone and was punching in Mick's number. He did not give a damn if his friend was asleep or not. It was Mick's fault he was in this mess.

_The one time I tried to do something nice_…

The phone rang. And rang. And rang again. Josef dropped his head to the counter in despair.

The television flipped past an infomercial, a sleazy soap opera, and stopped on reruns. He heard a familiar voice and froze. Dread passed through him. The repulsion on his face was evident as he wheeled around to stare at her, quite contentedly settled among the pillows, licking her spoon as she watched her program. If he never heard that theme song again, it would be too soon. The irony that she would choose _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ was not lost on him, neither was the profound desire at that moment to believe staking a vampire really worked. Even nonexistence had to be preferable to this unique brand of Halloween-induced hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Her coat smelled of blood and alcohol. At first glance, Josef had believed it a cheap imitation of a designer outfit, but on closer inspection he found the department store tags tucked inside, still attached. Had not his houseguest driven him nearly to the point of distraction, he would have been impressed that she had managed to steal it. Sachs Fifth Avenue was no laughing matter. Their security was almost as good as his own, yet somehow she had smuggled out a thousand dollar item without alerting anyone's attention. There was no identification, nothing to indicate who she was or where she had been going when she had stumbled so unintentionally into his path.

Mick was better at this sort of thing. He could touch a garment, catch a scent of blood, and know exactly what had happened, but Josef had never bothered honing those vampire skills. They were of no use to him, since normally he didn't give a damn about anyone else. Nevertheless, he lifted the bloodied garment to his nose and closed his eyes. Fleeting images and no more, darkened shadows, a raised hand striking with such force that his eyes flew open. There had been a face for an instant, but he could not make it out. Whatever had happened had been brutal and relentless. Her cries were still echoing in his ears.

Despite the fact that she made no sound, he knew instinctively when she was behind him. Vampires always knew. There was always something. The faint noise of a heartbeat, a nearly nonexistent intake of breath, the sound of the carpet as it was pressed beneath someone's tread. That was why they were such good hunters, why nothing could escape them once it was in their crosshairs. You could not hide from a vampire. They would always find you. But she didn't know that. He could hear the drops of water as they slid down her arms, the tightening of her fingers around the towel she was holding closed, the tongue that passed over her mouth, moistening her lips. She had been in the shower for over an hour.

Slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks, Josef turned to look at her, remaining next to the rumpled garment on the bed. With her hair wet, her cheekbones were all the more pronounced, giving her a gaunt appearance that rather reminded him of a figure in a painting, emotionally distant and unreachable through the canvas. One hand held closed the towel, and the other stretched out to rest on the doorframe as she looked at him. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her thoughts were loud in his ears.

"Don't you think it's time you tell me your name?" he asked.

Her eyes were pale in the semi-gloom, of such an unusual color that others would have been quite taken with them, for there was amber in their depths. Josef came up to her but she never shrank away from him, giving no indication that she was intimidated. Looking down at her, he said softly, "I believe up until this point I have been quite tolerant of your presence in my house, but I have my limits. Tell me your name."

Something passed through her eyes but never registered on her face. She tightened her lips and did not respond. Reaching out slowly, Josef brushed his knuckles against her arm and then took her by the throat, not violently or even aggressively, holding her in place as he looked at her. He could hear the increase in the beat of her heart, feel it in the blood that moved beneath his fingertips, flowing through her veins like water in a fountain. But even then she did not flinch, looking at him fearlessly. He could not help admiring her for it. "Tell me your name," he said again, with less patience than before.

"Let me go. You're hurting me."

She did not try to struggle. It was well that she didn't, for nothing could break a vampire's grip. Her voice did not even tremble. It remained utterly calm, confident that he would not hurt her. Josef lifted his eyebrows but did not relinquish his hold. They stared at one another for a significant amount of time, and then she said, "Blair. It's the name my mother gave me, the name my father shouted whenever he came home in a drunken rage, and a name you are never going to forget if you don't take your hands off me."

Her auburn eyes were glimmering in the faint light, like two golden medallions in the darkness. Josef was just as quiet and deliberate as she was, sensing that she was more nervous than she let on. Her instincts were masterful. She was remarkable. But he didn't let go.

"Well, Blair, let's get a few things straightened out, shall we? First of all, you know as well as I do that nothing happened to you in this house last night. So your threats to go to the police and report me are nothing more than idle fantasies. I am not some naive debutant you can manipulate into paying you off, as you have no doubt done many times in the past. The magnificent games you are accustomed to playing with people do not work on me. So you are going to get dressed, and we are going to find out just what happened to you, so I can have the luxury of never seeing you again."

There was less fear than resentment in her face, but at least it was an emotion that he could understand. He wanted her out of his house, preferably before nightfall. Releasing her, he indicated the doors that concealed one of Carmilla's numerous closets, stuffed with out of season clothes she kept for donation to charity auctions. "You'll find plenty of clothing at your disposal. Choose something sensible, since I'll be sending you home in it." He left without a backward glance, and in the half hour that it took her to dress, found some satisfaction in the fact that he had managed to gain the upper hand, but his exuberance was short-lived, for when she reappeared, the fire had returned.

Fixing him where he stood before the enormous glass windows that overlooked the backyard with narrowed eyes, she said, "You think just because you have money, you can treat people like dirt."

A hint of vulnerability, for just an instant. He liked that, for it gave him some power over her. She resented the fact that he was wealthy almost as much as she hated the fact that she was poor. Beyond the glass, the water was shimmering in the sunlight, rippling as the filter recycled the chlorine. Beyond it was nothing, for the grounds fell away into a magnificent visage overlooking Beverly Hills. He had chosen this house for its view, for its isolation, for the fact that he was surrounded by nature in the winding hills, that no one would ever bother him up here. Giving her only a glance at his profile, Josef replied, "Having money gives me the _right_ to treat people how I believe they should be treated. Some need coddled and encouraged, and others need a firm hand. So far you have done nothing to imply that you deserve any treatment from me other than that which I have given you. If you want respect from me, you have to earn it."

Retrieving a set of keys from the shallow dish where Carmilla kept them, Josef indicated that she should follow him into the six-car garage. He escorted her down the steps and she halted in amazement at the polished cars awaiting him. One of them chirped as he activated the key, and she didn't resist as he propelled her toward its tinted windows and placed her inside. The interior was brand new. It still smelled like it, despite the miles he had put on it. He hated driving in the afternoon but it would soon be twilight and the sun was lessening in its intensity. The last thing he wanted to do was suffer a migraine, but he already had the beginnings of one, so there wasn't much to lose.

He wasn't sure what Mick would do in his situation, but suspected it would involve returning to the scene of the crime. Driving this car always relaxed him; the feel of the leather, the soft hum of the engine, the faint classical music rippling out of the expensive audio instillation. It was peaceful, harmonious, more soothing than a lover's caress. At least for a few seconds, until one slender finger reached forward and punched the dial on the radio. Instantly, the soft crooning of instrumentals was replaced by the harsh noise of electric keyboards. Blair refused to look at him, staring out the window as the hills passed beneath them. There was just a hint of auburn in her hair, which explained the handful of freckles on her milky white shoulders.

Josef turned the dial back to his music. She punched the button. The music flipped back and forth between them before he said in exasperation, "This _is_ mycar!"

"I cannot believe you listen to that stuff. Anyway, shotgun always chooses the music." Blair slipped her feet out of her high heels and rested her bare toes on the dashboard. Beyond the window, the bluffs were passing beside them, a sheer drop to the sea. It was beautiful in the late afternoon, a view that he had never seen before in sunlight. Normally he drove this road in the evening. He left the music tuned to the station that she wanted and attempted to ignore it as he navigated the narrow streets, returning to where he had found her. There were no candy wrappers or damp toilet paper strung across this alley, and the buildings looked far more ominous in the coming twilight than they had in the darkness.

He could smell her blood long before it appeared on the pavement, so faint that none but his kind would have sensed its presence. Pulling to a gradual stop a half block from the main street, Josef allowed her to look around curiously and when she focused on him, remarked, "This is where I found you last night. This is also where you're getting out." Reaching across her, Josef opened the car door. Last fleeting rays of sunlight filtered into the black leather interior, and he was careful to avoid them.

Blair stared at him incredulously. "Like hell, I'm getting out. Do you want me to get mugged?"

"Mugged. Bludgeoned. Dismembered. I really don't care." He meant it, but once she got out of the car and slammed the door, he could not drive off and leave her there. Instead, he pulled up down the street and parked, pocketing his keys as he stepped out onto the hot pavement. The shadow of the building was cast over him, but nevertheless he grimaced at the fact that he was outdoors. Blair stood in the center of the street with her arms crossed and legs apart, throwing a long shadow across the asphalt. She opened her mouth to speak, but he said, "Don't say anything."

Pinching her lips together in amusement, she followed him down the alley, all his senses on alert as they passed the nearby buildings, wondering which one she had stumbled out of. There should have been some indication of what had happened to her. "You really don't remember anything?"

"Nothing."

"And you're not just lying to me?"

"Believe me, I want to find out what happened just as much as you do."

The surroundings were strangely familiar, and it took him an instant to realize that he knew where they were, not too far from one of his old haunts, a nightclub with an elite clientele and even more impressive owner. Even Mick had liked it, in the days before he had given up warm liquid refreshments for those dreadful plastic hospital transfusion bags. Most vampires were not even allowed in, if they knew where it was to begin with, but it had become a staple of the old city in the forty years of its existence. The painted black door was still intact, giving to his nudge as he stepped into the darkened interior. He had not been there in years, but knew the owner would be glad to see him. Adrianne was always glad to see him. She was one of the most beautiful immortals he had ever seen. Most of them when retained some of their youthful perfection, but she surpassed all of them. Josef had been her pet for more than a century, after she had rescued him from the mob. Their bond was still strong despite the different paths their lives had taken, and it took him mere seconds to be noticed as he moved through the club.

She glided out of the darkness, taking his arm and whispering into his ear, "I haven't seen you in quite some time, but I hardly expected you to bring your own refreshments." Her smile was luminous; her teeth perfectly white as she glanced back at Blair. Adrianne did not try and hide what she was near as much as the others, and nor did she need to. Others saw only beauty, not the ruthless creature beneath the façade. The chiffon of her long black dress swirled about her as she stepped into his path, taking hold of his collar between her black fingernails. She was five hundred years older than he was, but looked even younger.

They'd had some fun in their time. He remembered their adventures with a hint of a smile as she slipped her arm around him. If he hadn't been dragging the hellcat with him, he might have stayed awhile to become reacquainted, but sadly, business took precedence over pleasure. "I was actually wondering if you knew anything about her," Josef said, following her gaze. Blair was staring up at the high ceiling, turning in a slow circle as she took in her surroundings. There was something gangly and awkward about her, as though she had never passed the clumsy stage of her adolescence. "I picked her up just down the street, but she either won't tell me what happened or cannot remember. Did any of your clients lose her last night?"

"Darling, if she'd come here last night, she would still be here," Adrianne purred. She meant of course that her clients were often bored with her selection, and she was always looking to recruit new blood. She was clearly interested, her amber eyes gleaming as she watched the turn of Blair's exquisite neck. Josef did not trust her, but also knew that she would never interfere in his affairs. Blair would be safe with her for an hour while he found nourishment. He had not eaten since that morning, and his even brief and indirect contact with the sunlight had made him weak. "Keep an eye on her," he whispered into her ear, and she watched him ascend the staircase with a smile.

One of the girls at the head of it came toward him, taking his hand and luring him into one of the private rooms. She remembered him from before, and he could already taste her just through her presence. But before he crossed the threshold, he could not help glancing down into the gloom at the figure standing awkwardly on one foot as she fixed the strap on her heel. There was something about her that he could not explain, some sense of knowing that their meeting had not been mere coincidence. For some reason, she had gotten under his skin.


	4. Chapter 4

His fingers threaded through her soft blonde hair. She was resting against him with complete trust, in an almost hypnotic stupor. It was more than nourishment he was taking from her, a renewed sense of self-importance that somewhat numbed the hellish nature of his day. The young woman was accustomed to being used, but could not have known that she was helping vanquish the memories of Blair coming into his life, with as much gusto and common sense as a freight train running off the tracks. Her blood was pure and innocent, her fingers curling around his lapel as her head rested against his shoulder. The room was mostly dark but swirls of burgundy light swirled near the ceiling, the product of tinted bulbs.

When he was content and strengthened, Josef pulled back and watched the life return to her eyes, turning them a murky green as some of the color fought to reclaim her face. He allowed her to sink into the nearest chair and straightened his collar in the mirror before leaving the room. Blair was seated at the bar, twirling a little umbrella around in what looked like a martini. He came up so silently behind her that she was startled when his hand came to rest on the counter. She stared at his fingers, mesmerized. There was more life in them than she remembered. Her hostess leaned across the counter and whispered, "Don't be too much of a stranger, Josef. Remember, there's always Prague when you grow tired of the glamour of the hills."

"Has it recovered yet from our last visit?" he replied with a meaningful smile. Most of his fondest memories were centered round Prague. It seemed to lure fewer vampires than other parts of the world, and those that did seek its comfortable existence tended to be of greater interest than the rest of the world. Between the operas and the evening outdoor concerts, they had found no limit to nourishment or fascination among the wealthy that flocked there for the summer season. The response his comment garnered was more emotional than verbal as the beauty withdrew once more into the shadows, no doubt to ready her girls for the opening.

Blair followed him out into the twilight, still holding the paper umbrella from her drink. It made a soft crinkling noise as she twirled it between her fingers. The red dress she had chosen from Carmilla's closet hugged her skinny frame as she shivered in the coming coolness of night. "What was upstairs?" she asked as he unlocked the car. It was clear by his expression that it was none of her business, but such silent chastisements had never stopped her before. "If you're on something, I don't want you driving me anywhere."

"The only influence I am under is a severe lack of patience. Now get in the car, I'm taking you home." Josef slid behind the wheel and waited, half hoping that she would refuse and he would have a legitimate reason to leave her there. Rolling down the passenger window, he looked up at her where she stood considering her options. "Are you coming or not?" he asked, and she joined him in the front seat, buckling in without a word. The shaded glass rolled up beside her and she glanced across at him, one of her dark eyebrows lifted in a quizzical expression. Before he pulled out into the street, Josef said, "What went on upstairs is not what you think. I'm not on anything."

He pointedly ignored her as they drove through the streets of LA, the radio off and utter silence in the car. There was not much he could do under the circumstances, and their visit to the club had done nothing to reveal any solutions to the numerous unanswered questions revolving around her mysterious appearance. Blair seemed as though some of her gusto had left her, either through the influence of her martini or personal demons. As darkness fell, he was feeling the effects of exhilaration while she was becoming more and more withdrawn.

"What _do_ you remember from last night?" he asked after a prolonged absence of conversation.

Her nimble fingers tightened in her lap, and she avoided meeting his gaze, keeping her attention riveted to the buildings passing beyond the range of headlights. They had left the bad part of town behind and were emerging onto streets he was more comfortable with. Light flooded the sidewalks where people walked hand in hand or arm in arm, sometimes wrapped around one another as lovers often did. Blair licked her lips, a nervous habit he had noticed that she possessed. Her straight auburn-brown hair slipped over her shoulder, concealing her face from him as she gazed at her hands, covered in scratches from whatever she had tangled with the night before.

"The last thing I remember is leaving my dorm room," she said quietly. "There was some kind of block party the other girls wanted me to attend with them. Everything after that is a blur … I think someone handed me a plastic cup of punch … and then nothing. It's like an entire chunk of my life is missing. Not that it was all that impressive before. I get B's in all my classes, and most of the time am a social loser."

It was easy to imagine her in college, a somewhat brash young woman who gave her professors hell and no doubt went to every anti-violence pro-peace rally on the campus. Her boldness of that morning had vanished, replaced with raw insecurities he found disarming, because it prompted emotions he thought had died long ago with the last remnants of his humanity. Blair was rubbing the back of her hand where it was blotchy and red, her fingers white at their tips. She hadn't eaten since that morning and Josef took her to his favorite place on the Boulevard. It was one of the few restaurants in the city that catered to his kind, and he was immediately recognized at the door.

They were taken to a quiet booth in the back, the lighting low enough that humans would not notice anything peculiar about their dining companions, or for that matter, the pale-skinned waiters. Blair was handed a menu while he was given a "wine" list. The window overlooked the street, and they were free to watch the comings and goings of their companions. There was music traveling faintly from the central square and although no one else could hear it, Josef knew all the notes the instant they left the source. Blair ordered and their drinks were brought, his bearing a resemblance to a Bloody Mary, celery stick and all. He swirled it around in the red substance, aware that he was being observed across the booth. She had taken to staring at him.

"You look different in this light, you know," she remarked.

Of course he did. Vampires came alive after dark, even if they had missed a full day of sleep. There was something predatory about them in late hours, something he knew she must have started to pick up on, even if she did not know exactly what it was. Not just predatory, either… attractive, almost hypnotic. It was why no one ever said no once they set eyes on you. Why most bitings were such quiet and unnoticed affairs. Mick said it was a joke that darkness made vampires more attractive, but for those who had been alive over many centuries, it was fact. Had it not been in darkness when he had first met Beth, that blonde reporter that had been instantly entranced with him?

"Please don't tell me you're suddenly attracted to me, or I might have to file a sexual harassment suit." Josef found that he liked her smile, and the sound of her laugh. He had never heard it before, and it was more of a childish giggle than what he expected. It relaxed the air between them and allowed her to breathe. She indicated his glass and asked if she might have a sip. "You won't like it," he warned her.

"Try me."

"Trust me." He never reached for the glass, but she knew it was out of bounds. Her eyes lowered, and Josef allowed seriousnessness to once more come between them. "Where was this block party you were invited to?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Somewhere on campus, one of the fraternity buildings."

People were passing on the street below, cars driving slowly past down the open avenue. There were still orange and black streamers on the lampposts. Josef could sense the chill that was coming over the city as it fell into darkness. It caused his veins to tingle and his senses to sharpen. It might have even darkened the color of his eyes, for they tended to be too pale in daylight. "And you don't remember going anywhere else?"

"No."

"Then how did you wind up four miles away in the valley?"

Her lips parted but no sound came out. She honestly did not know. It was now annoying him less that he had to look after her, and more that someone had taken such great pains to transport her over such a distance. Still, she must have regained enough common sense to fight, given the wound on her skull and the numerous bruises. Her skinned knuckles lowered beneath the table as her food was brought, its scent so pungent that it nearly made Josef ill. She must have noticed that he was not eating, but said nothing as she cut her meat and took a bite. It was rare, and a faint hue of blood colored the plate. At least she had the common sense not to overcook it.

"Will anyone have reported you missing?"

"I doubt it. My roommate has a habit of staying out all night at these … parties. Classes were off today, so she probably thought I was out somewhere." Blair reached up and unconsciously flattened her hair, making certain with her fingers that it was covering the scrape on the side of her head. It was a very self-conscious movement but made without thought, a response to the fullness of the room around her. Josef realized she was not used to these surroundings, to the intensity of his presence, to the small, intimate feeling the booth provided in its darkened corner. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, checking the number in some vain hope that it would be Mick. It was Carmilla. Excusing himself momentarily, he stepped into the corridor that led to the washrooms and answered it.

"Did you get rid of your stray?"

Josef glanced in the direction of the table, where Blair was enthusiastically tucking into her baked potato. "I'm afraid not. Mick seems to have gone missing, so I'm stuck with her at least for the evening."

"I'm sorry. I know how you loathe uninvited guests… even if you _did _bring her home." Carmilla must have been opening and closing drawers, for he could hear them shifting in the background. Any hopes he had that she might rescue him from his predicament were shattered when she added, "Look, I'm sorry but I won't be in tonight. We're going to trial in the morning, and my numbskull assistant nearly ruined the case this afternoon with her incompetence. I'm guessing it'll take me at least six more hours to get everything together for tomorrow. I thought I'd just go back to my flat when I'm finished. I hope you don't mind."

He _did_ mind, but reassured her there was nothing to be concerned about and hung up the phone. The thought had crossed his mind that he had come to the end of his responsibility. Blair had friends on campus and a dorm room to return to. There was no reason why he should not deliver her home and take his leave. The thought of a quiet, empty house was a welcome reprieve from the frustration he had suffered most of the day. Blair was waiting for him when he returned, her plate spotless, except for the broccoli she had left conspicuously on one corner. "Not a vegetarian, I take it," he remarked drolly, as she slid out of the booth to join him.

"If it doesn't bleed when you stick a knife into it, it doesn't interest me," she quipped back. He quietly took care of the bill and drove her down the winding streets toward the campus. It was a fair drive and she remained quiet throughout. Even before the scent of blood turned his senses to tingling, Josef knew something was wrong. He could sense it as they turned through the main gates and drove to the dorm buildings, stark and white against the murky sky. There was a moon tonight rising over the trees, casting a yellow hue against the leaves that littered the ground from their last rainstorm. It was too calm, almost deadly calm.

For a moment it appeared as though everything was normal, but then he saw the flashing lights and flutter of police tape. Most of the students that had been out partying over their weekend were now gathered in a thick circle around the front of the building. Blair stepped out and pushed her way toward the front before Josef could stop her. No one appeared to notice him as he followed, mysteriously remaining untouched in their midst. Her hand fell over her mouth when she saw the body, half concealed by the stone bench at the side of the building. One brown hand dangled over the raised lining of the flowerbeds, the bushes having concealed her throughout most of the day.

"Gina," she whispered, and started to move forward. But Josef had seen enough, and smelled more than she ever could have understood. He had assumed her mishap of the night before had been nothing more than a drunken stunt, an attempted rapist rather than the thirsty frustrations of an infuriated vampire, but it was easy enough to see what had happened. They had both been drugged, lured into the shadows, marked … but somehow, Blair had managed to escape. But just because she had been saved last night did not mean she was safe. No one could outsmart or outrun a vampire. He knew that better than anyone. Not when they knew the taste of her blood, the scent of it.

His hand closed around her arm and dragged her away before the police could notice she was making a scene. Blair did not fight him as he pushed her into the car and drove them away, as more figures came running across the lawn to see what was going on. She was crying in the passenger seat, tears running down her face, but she made not a single sound. Josef glanced at her sideways once or twice as he roared down the winding cliffs. "What happened last night?" she moaned. "What happened? What am I going to do?"

Without breaking pace, Josef looked directly across at her, his eyes glowing eerily in the nearly nonexistent light. "Do you trust me, Blair?" he asked.

Meeting his gaze without fear, she replied, "Yes."

Good, because she was going to have to if she wanted to make it out of this alive.


	5. Chapter 5

Josef didn't know why she trusted him. She had no reason to except that he had taken a firm hand with her, perhaps the first truly dominant hand she had ever seen. Blair was accustomed to getting her own way. She was used to tossing her hair and making demands and having men yield without question, in the faint hope that they would get something in return. But the news of what had transpired at the dorm had broken her, until there was only a faint shadow of the woman who so aggravated him left behind. Blair was utterly defeated.

Not another word was said between them as they drove the rest of the way to the house, Josef glancing frequently into the rear view mirror, as if expecting someone to mysteriously appear on the darkened stretch of road fading behind them. Blair she gave an audible sigh of relief when the iron gates whirred closed in their wake. There were lights on in the guardhouse. It meant his team was keeping an eye on things, as he had instructed in the brief phone call that alerted them to the situation. The long shadow of Tom, his head of security, could be seen in the shadows as the Porsche pulled up before the garage and Josef stepped out, tossing the keys to another of his men. Opening the passenger door, he didn't have to encourage her to step out, nor did he draw attention to the fact that her hand crept into his, even though it surprised him.

With Tom on their heels, they entered the house and Blair was dropped off in the kitchen as Josef slipped into his media room and with a flick of a button, turned on the high-definition television. It was all over the news, a brutal, seemingly senseless murder against a college student. The media had arrived shortly after they had left, the camera panning faces that craned for a better view as the black body bag on a stretcher was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the sirens off but the lights flashing, casting eerie patterns against those gathered around it.

"… police say there are no leads at this time, but are considering the possibility that this may not be an isolated event, rather, the next attack in a series of unexpected murders throughout the valley in recent months…"

Of course they suspected the incidents were related, because they were. Josef had known that all along. Mick had been working on it for six weeks, attempting to track down a vampire engaged in what appeared to be serial murders without common thread or instinct. His victims were all female and young, most of them attractive in some way or another, but that was where the similarities ended. They rarely worked in the same profession. They shared no common history. They did not even frequent the same beaches or beauty salons. Local authorities were mystified. Mick was mystified. Usually vampires had a pattern, a type they liked to feed on, but this one was random in his selection.

He watched the images without emotion, numbed to human suffering over the generations in which he had participated in it. "Maybe that's where Mick is," he reasoned. He hoped so, because otherwise the man's absence gave him an unsettling feeling, not quite of concern but something like it. Mick was not the type to go off for long periods of time. He was far less a solitary creature than he pretended to be. "Deborah should be up by now," he said as he turned to Tom. "Ask what she can find out." He said no more, because Blair was standing behind him in the open doorway, staring at the screen almost blindly, as if she could not comprehend what was happening. Josef did not seek to comfort or reassure her, for it was not in his nature and he knew she would sense that it was contrived. Instead, he allowed her to look, to internalize, to wrap her mind around it, as he stood there watching her, wondering what went on inside her mind.

Dropping his hand to the back of the sofa, he asked after a lengthy pause, "What can you tell me about Gina?"

"She was… normal. Spent her Saturday nights partying and the rest of the week studying." Blair shook her head, waves of auburn-brown hair sliding over her shoulders. Her skirt rustled as she came to sit on the couch, sideways to the television, as if she hoped to avoid it. Resting her face in her hands, she murmured, "I can't believe this happened. The last thing I remember, we were laughing, joking, trying to take our mind of midterms … and then this? Death?" She looked up at him, her face as pale as the whitewashed wall behind it. "Unexpected, but so horribly… _permanent_."

That was one thing he remembered, the human fear of death, of dying… humans went out of their way to try and cheat fate, to try and escape the inevitable. They spent millions of dollars on supplements and heart replacements, in pretending that they were not decaying with every hour, that their body was not slowing down. He remembered death, the action itself, so painful and all consuming, but an otherworldly, out of body experience, as if he were floating above his form and only returned to it when the transformation had taken place. He remembered the insatiable hunger… and the rage. Both of them went together, were so common in young vampires. They were uncontrollable. He had been uncontrollable. A part of him missed it, yearned for the days when death involved no conscience, in which they did not have to be careful, in which politeness was burning down the house after you had killed everyone in it, or simply closing the door after you.

He tried to shake these memories from his mind as he sat down opposite her, the sound of the news distant and quiet in the background, absorbed into the absolute silence between them. Blair continued to hide her face, occasionally running her fingers through her hair, pushing her knees together like a little girl in an uncomfortable position. There was a ring on her left hand, silver. It glinted in the lamplight. Blair looked up at the image of Gina that flashed across the screen, mute to the dialogue that accompanied the journalist's monologue. Her scratched fingers stood out vividly, almost as acutely as the look that crossed her face. "I want to find out who did this," she said softly. "I want to find out who did this, and make them pay." With the last words, she looked at him, and he realized then why there was something about her that allured him. Blair was a great deal like him. The same demanding self-importance, the same hidden insecurities, and the same bloodlust for anyone or anything that harmed those she loved. He had memories like that too, only in his case he had been able to watch the perpetrator squirm.

Never would he have imagined that her voice could be so cold, but it was firm as she spoke to him. "I know who you are. It has taken me several hours to figure it out, but I remember now. I saw you at some fundraiser in LA last year. I don't remember much about the evening, but I do remember you, with a black-haired beauty on your arm. You were charming. You were polite. But everyone knew you were dangerous. They said you were a man who could get things done. I was so innocent then. I thought it meant you were ambitious, but now I see the truth. It's power that you have. Whatever you want, you inevitably get. It's in your nature; it's the virtue of the empire you have built. I want you to find out who murdered Gina, who stole six hours of my life and all of hers. And I want you to make sure he never does this to anyone else. Can you do that for me?"

There were some impossible matters in life, but this was not one of them. Even vampires made mistakes. Josef hadn't cared about this case much before. The murders were discreet enough that no one would suspect what was behind them, but now as he looked into Blair's tearstained face, he realized there was more to it than that. They had to stop for another purpose, simply because she cared about the mere mortals that he would not have glanced at a second time. She had lost someone she cared about. He had too, once. Though he did not verbally answer, it was more than apparent in his eyes that he agreed.

Blair formed a small smile with her naturally pouty lips, and said, "Good. Maybe I won't report you after all." She twisted her hands together awkwardly and he asked without compulsion, "Care for a drink?"

Running her hands down her skirt in a gesture of pulling herself together, Blair replied, "Stiffest kind you got."

He got up and went to the sideboard to pour one for her, relieved to be away from the intensity of her eyes. They were so focused, so calculating, as if she were trying to work out what went on in his mind. The room became quiet behind him as she switched off the sound on the television and then, after some consideration, the picture as well. She was twisting the ring around her finger when he brought her a dry martini, placing it onto the coffee table in front of her. "I was just thinking I should call Brian and tell him I'm all right," she said, "but then I remembered we broke up." She gave what might have been a half-hysterical little laugh and took the goblet from him, her fingers brushing his. She did not seem to care that she might be in danger, nor could she know the reasons why. Her only thought was sorting through the madness of utter chaos.

Lifting the glass, she asked dryly, "You didn't put something in this, did you?"

"No, but it is my hope that it helps you sleep. There's nothing you can do but let my associates do their job." Josef waited until she finished her drink and then escorted her to the guest room, where she closed the door softly behind her. Moving swiftly into the security room, he ordered the multiple screens be turned to other news sources. One of them was an Internet feed from Buzzwire, the largest news source on the web. It did not take him long to recognize the blonde woman standing in front of the now-quiet dorm building, police tape rippling eerily in the wind behind her. "… the spot of so many academic hopes is now a gruesome crime scene where a college co-ed was found murdered, her body undiscovered for almost six hours…"

Beth. That was her name. Even though Mick tried to avoid talking about her, Josef had known immediately there was something between them these days. It went much further back than even she suspected. He knew all about little Beth and Mick, about the flames that had consumed the room where Mick had coldly staked the heart of the woman he had once loved and left her to die. That had been many years ago, and yet all this time, Mick had kept an eye on her. Now it seemed that she was keeping an eye on him.

Without moving his gaze from the screen, the instant her live feet went offline, Josef ordered someone to dial her cell number. It rang once and was answered, transferred to speakerphone. She sounded tired. It was after midnight. Beth was not one of them. She wasn't used to such long night hours. Or at least, she hadn't been before meeting Mick.

"Hello?" Dear God, that journalistic voice made him want to kill himself. It was too damned … human.

Leaning over the desk, his eyes fixed on the images flickering on the screens before him, the sound now monitored to a low level, Josef said, "This is Josef Konstantin, one of Mick's associates. No doubt he has mentioned me."

There was a delicate pause, followed by a mildly insulting response of, "No, I don't think so."

He shouldn't have been surprised. Mick tried to deny what he was rather than accept it, and would never have confided their friendship to Beth. Still, Josef had thought his name would at least come up in passing. This is what he got for being a mentor for eighty years? The incredulousness of his expression never made it into his voice, as he replied, "Well, apparently he's had more important things on his mind. I was wondering if you knew how to reach him. I haven't gotten an answer at his flat or on his cell for the last twenty-four hours."

"Mick said he would be out of town for a couple of days, something to do with this case. Why?" There it was, the reason he hadn't wanted to involve her: the fact that she was a journalist, and could sense he was trying to hide something. "Do you know something?"

Just as he expected, there was a hint of excitement in that question. Josef hung up. He knew it wouldn't buy him much time. It would take her a half an hour tops to find out who he was and either call him back or camp out in front of his gate and demand to see him. He paced the floor, wondering what Mick had found out, how much the police knew. They couldn't know of course that they were tracking the impossible, a vampire so methodical and precise that it would take them years to find him, and if they did, it would be a wrongful arrest, someone else blamed for his series of crimes. It was not the first time something like this had happened. He remembered the incidents of Whitehall vividly, when another rogue vampire had gone on the rampage and left a half dozen prostitutes in Whitehall dismembered to cover his tracks. The fact that the news of these incidents had interrupted the opera had been a damned annoying waste of an evening.

Leaving his men to do their job, Josef wandered through the house, gazing at his paintings, exquisite, priceless works of art he had collected from the beginning. Some of the works of art in the mightiest museums in the world were forgeries. The real ones hung on his walls. They normally brought him a sense of peace, but tonight felt empty of emotion and devoid of meaning, no more than displayed notions of the fancies of long-dead artists. He realized then what was wrong, that the house felt peculiar. Carmilla should have been there with him, hers the only heartbeat thumping away in his ears. This heartbeat was different, faint but growing stronger, faster, mingling with the short breaths that accompanied nightmares.

It was completely dark in her room, dark and cold, perfect for him but a bitter shock to anyone mortal. Blair was moaning in her sleep, attempting to escape from something, but as much as she tried, she could not avoid it. There was a glint of sweat on her skin, the sheets perceptively damp around her. Sheer force of will brought her out of it and upright, drawing in her breath in what might have manifested into a scream if she hadn't been instantly aware of her surroundings. He appeared at her side and she latched onto him, attempting to steady her nerves as her fingers closed around the expensive fabric of his shirt. Her scent was unusual, traces of fear still lingering as she became calm.

"You're safe." He was not even sure why he said it, but it comforted her. Blair's face was so near his that he might have reached out and kissed her, her breath warm against his lips. It took a moment for her to recover her senses, but when she could speak, it was in a whisper, as if the walls had ears and she did not wish them to overhear.

"I think I remember something."


	6. Chapter 6

It was said in no more than a whisper, a frantic hope that she was not wrong as she leaned against him, the paleness of her skin glowing faintly in the weak light. She was so close to him, so tempting in her utter innocence of his nature, of what he was. Blair was unaware of her dangerous position, of how it took every ounce of control for him not to respond to her nearness. He could hear her heart beating beneath her nightgown, feel its pulse in the fingers that gripped him. But it was her lips that intrigued him the most, for they spoke without hesitation.

"The party was pretty wild. I wanted to leave, but Gina wasn't interested. She'd just broken up with her boyfriend and wanted to make him jealous by flirting around a bit. There were some older guys there, from the sophomore class. One in particular was a little too forward with Gina. He was handsome, had a bit of an accent. Normally, she loves that kind of thing, but this time was trying to turn him off. There was something about him I didn't like, something in his eyes. I didn't think much of it at the time, because he left. I don't remember seeing him after that, but that doesn't mean much of anything. I barely remember that much."

Her eyes were swimming in shadows as they looked up at him. He could feel her warmth through the bedclothes. Her hair was in a disarray around her shoulders, smelling faintly of the shampoo she had used that morning. He realized it was Carmilla's shampoo, but on her, it was different, not so severe. Carmilla had to have every hair in place, her world perfectly arranged. Blair was much more comfortable in utter chaos.

"Had you ever seen him before?" he asked.

Blair shook her head. She would have remembered, his features had been distinct enough.

It was a movement that might have alarmed her if it had not been done so carefully, but the power of persuasion was with him as he reached up and touched the side of her face. Memories flooded into him in a series of hazy images that faded in and out of focus: a crowded room in the half darkness, bodies all around, gyrating to the obnoxiously loud music, drinks passing from hand to hand, a glimpse of the man attempting to speak to her friend, a face he had seen before. He could make out no more than a vague semblance of features, but it was enough that he knew who it was. He recognized the sharp cheekbones, the voice fringed with a hint of an accent.

There was more, much more … stumbling out into the parking lot, laughing as she dropped her keys and fished for them under the car. When she stood up, Gina had vanished. The laugh died in her throat as she turned around, looking for her in vain. A figure had loomed up and struck her across the face, sending her crashing to the pavement. Josef was pulling the threads of her mind hard, attempting to coax these images to the forefront, but the rest was in shambles … visions of a darkened alley, of someone holding onto her, of running out into the street, of approaching headlights and the squeal of brakes…

He had seen all there was to see, and when he pulled away, she was staring at him. The connection between them had been so strong that he could still feel her in his head, and it was apparent that she sensed it too. Blair touched the side of his face and then leaned in to kiss him. It was reactive, but there was no resistance, only a melding of thoughts and bodies as he drew her into his arms, parting her lips with such increasing intensity that she was trembling when he drew back. Her heart was pounding as she looked up at him, resting comfortably against the pillows, her hair spread out about her like a dark cloud and her neck glowing softly in the moonlight. For the first time in his life as a vampire, he had no desire to feed on her.

Leaning in to kiss her again, he was halted by the touch of her fingers against his lips. Her fingernails were black. He had never noticed that before. He wondered if she always had them that way. "You know something you are not telling me," she whispered.

"You would never believe me if I did."

He brushed the hair back from the cut on her forehead, running his fingers through her hair. Blair was perfectly at ease with his nearness despite the fact that she barely knew him. There was something about her that he liked. He wasn't sure that she even knew what it was, but it was abnormal, different from everyone else he had ever known.

"I'm a college student," she replied. "Try me."

"Do you believe in legends?"

"Some of them."

Propping his head up on his hand, Josef asked, "Good and evil?"

"Absolutely."

He rested his hand on her waist, searching her eyes. "God?"

"Yes."

"Then that raises the question of why you haven't pushed me away yet." Humor surfaced in his voice and caused her to smile. Blair had a beautiful smile whenever she chose to use it. He was surprised to find she was blushing. Mick had once said that a blush was more interesting to a vampire than a human, and it was true, but he had not seen one in such a long time that he had forgotten how attractive it was. Carmilla was so worldly that nothing phased her. He had not prompted a blush out of her for as long as she had known him.

Lowering her gaze, Blair answered, "Honestly, I don't know why you haven't been drop-kicked yet. No one else has ever gotten this far."

"I imagine they've tried."

Blair rolled her eyes. "That _is_ what boys do."

"But you never gave in?"

She looked at the ring on her finger, gleaming silver in the moonlight. It was on the hand resting on the side of his face, cold against his bare skin. He wondered if that was not why she had broken up with her boyfriend. There were few men in the modern world who cared for abstinence. In the old days, you went to a brothel and destroyed your reputation for it. Now it was merely a case of a couple of dates and an available motel room. It took her a moment to respond, but finally she shook her head. "Mom sent me to some Christian camp when I was sixteen. They stressed the importance of eternal love and devotion, of making a match that would last through the centuries. It sounded appealing, so I put on the ring. I think they forgot to mention there was superglue inside the band. Despite numerous attempts, it hasn't come off since."

Closing his hand around her hand, he asked her with his eyes if she wanted him to pull it off for her. There was momentary hesitation and then she shook her head. He respected her for it. Indicating that he was going to go check the monitors, he left her in her room, closing the door softly behind him. Blair was unlike anyone he had ever met. Everyone seemed to be out to get something, and for a time he had thought that she was the same way, but that was not truly in her nature. Her boldness had been nothing more than an attempt to conceal how shaken she was by the whole experience, her hour long shower less for luxury than to give herself time to calm down and consider her options.

His thoughts turned to the man he had seen in her memories. Tervain. He had been one of the most dangerous men in Berlin when the war had broken out, a political assassin of such great ambitions that Hitler had immediately put his talents to work. In life, Tervain had been commonplace, but as a vampire, had gained an interest in violence. Not the normal kind of violence that entertained most young vampires, either, but the sickening forms of torture and dismemberment that had made him infamous. Josef had counted himself fortunate that their paths had crossed only once, for as much as he enjoyed the occasional blood sport, Tervain was abhorrent. The thought that he was now in the United States turned the blood in Josef's veins to ice. Everyone had assumed he had perished in the war, that some fortunate soldier had decapitated him, or perhaps burned to death in one of the concentration camps where he routinely practiced his torture techniques. If Tervain was murdering college girls, there was a purpose behind it. He never did anything without a reason, demented as his mind might have been.

There was no reason to indicate to Blair that he knew anything more than what he had shared with her. Fortunately, there was nothing to spur such a confession, as the following day passed without consequence. Carmilla had left what remained of the candy in the hall closet and it did not take Blair long to find it. She spent all of Sunday sprawled on the couch with the orange-colored bucket in one hand, and a pile of candy wrappers scattered across the floor. Though something had changed in her expression when she looked at him, for the most part she left him alone. He appreciated this. Needing sleep, Josef informed her that he was going to his office in town to make some private inquiries and once there, locked himself in, unplugged everything, and slept most of the afternoon.

It was almost twilight when he left the building, crossing the pavement to his convertible. Most of his associates had gone home and the city was becoming quiet as darkness set in across the landscape. Just as he reached the door, his cell phone rang. He had left Mick over a dozen messages and hoped to find him on the other end of the line, but it was another voice, one he had not forgotten over the seventy years that separated their conversations. The accent was still noticeable but the tone had not changed. Tervain's reputation was one for utter calm no matter what the situation, a fact that had driven his enemies mad with uncertainties and that put tremendous unease into everyone that encountered him in the street.

"So many years later, and you are still a businessman. I am impressed."

There was no movement in the lot, but Josef knew his adversary was nearby, watching from one of the rooftops. "You would think torturing Jews in Auschwitz would be more than enough to satisfy even your bloodlust, Tervain. But it is a major leap between gas chambers and knocking off co-eds. It seems like such a waste of your extraordinary talents."

"You have something I want, Josef."

"Whether or not you want her is not the point, it's whether or not you can _have_ her, and the answer is no. You know how our kind feel about you. You betrayed too many of us during the war. One phone call and I'll have everyone on the streets looking for you. It's pretty hard to dismember someone when your head is rolling in the gutter."

Opening the car door, Josef slid behind the steering wheel and inserted the key into the ignition. He glanced over the rooftops surrounding the high-rise parking lot, hoping to make out a figure against the skyline. But there was nothing. Tervain was much too cunning for that. Not even Hitler had been able to take him out when the tables had turned. He had been the Reich's best-kept secret until after the war.

The voice that responded to him was cool, confident. Tervain knew the risks of revealing himself but also enjoyed tormenting others so much that he would never simply vanish without having completed his task. Whatever had brought Blair into his world, nothing would ever take her out of it again, not until one or both of them were dead. "I have known you a long time, Josef. You pretend not to care about anyone or anything, but the fact of the matter is, you care very much, particularly when it comes to the few people you choose to let into your elite circle. Make some calls, check up on your friends, and then we'll talk further about Blair."

The line went dead. There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Pulling out of the parking space and speeding down to the ground level, Josef did not think until he had pulled up in front of Carmilla's office building. He was double-parked and any police officer worth his salt would leave a ticket within minutes, but that didn't matter as he pushed through the revolving door and asked the secretary at the desk if Carmilla Vandercourt was in. "She went out about an hour ago for coffee and never came back," was the casual response as she reached for a ringing phone line.

Damn Tervain. Damn him to hell. He was going to demand a trade, Blair for Carmilla, the one thing he knew Josef could not refuse. Even though he did not love Carmilla, he could not allow her to die, not like that. Not with what that psychopath would do to her. Though he knew it was no more than a fleeting hope, as he left the building he dialed Mick's number one last time. It rang … and so did a muffled phone just down the alley. It was faint and no human would have heard it, but he was in tune enough with his surroundings to sense it despite the mountain of garbage that covered it. It was coming from inside the dumpster.

Revolted that he was degraded to digging through trash, Josef started tossing thick black bags in all directions, sorting through the remnants of what a paper shredder had spewed out. Most of it was product but there was the occasional melted cheese sandwich or pork rind, not to mention all the gum stuck between post-it notes. The ringing stopped and he dialed the number again. It was near the bottom where he found not only the phone but Mick, his glassy eyes staring up into the darkening sky, a stake driven through his chest. His color was so bad that it was clear he had been there for more than twenty-four hours. Stakes could not kill vampires, but there could be irreversible emotional damage if they remained comatose too long.

Closing his slender fingers around the rough wooden piece of wood, Josef pulled it from Mick's chest. Immediately, the clouds cleared from Mick's intelligent eyes and he began to choke on his own blood, coughing it up as he painfully rolled over onto his side. "What … took … you … so long?" he asked through gasps of air. He was almost as white as the mountain of shredded legal documents that half covered him, badly in need of nourishment, and all but the pupils of his eyes were yellow.

"What, I have to baby sit you now?"

Mick was too weak to leap out of the dumpster on his own and Josef assisted him, helping him into the car. He glanced at the ticket stuffed beneath his windshield wiper and wadded it up and tossed it into the gutter. Navigating the narrow streets at as fast a speed as the law permitted, Josef dialed the number his friend had on speed dial. It was Beth. He didn't even had to look to know it.

"Mick, where have you been?" she demanded. "I have been worried about you!"

Looking across at his friend slumped in the passenger seat, Josef pressed the mouthpiece against his chest and mouthed, "Aww, she cares!" In response to Mick's scowl, he said into the phone, "Mick needs you. I'm dropping him off at his apartment. I need you to stay with him until he's recovered. How soon can you be there?"

With her promise that she would be arrive within minutes still ringing in his ears, Josef dropped off his friend at his apartment, helping him upstairs past the orange and white streamers that were coming off the walls, and the candy wrappers that littered the floor. Mick collapsed onto the couch as Josef went to the cabinet and removed the blood packets concealed there. He hated leaving Mick like that. More times than he could remember, they had helped one another out of impossible situations, near death experiences that would haunt him for centuries to come. But there was Blair to consider, and Carmilla. If he knew all the circumstances, Mick would want him to go anyway.

Beth's car was just pulling up as he left. He knew it was her by the beautiful blonde hair that bounced on her shoulders as she ran into the building. "He'd much prefer her as a nurse anyway," he remarked to no one in particular, and pulled out of the lot. It troubled him that Tervain had not called back, but it was in his nature to let people wait, marinating in the possibilities of what was to come. He had a feeling there was more to it than sheer meanness, and knew he was right when he returned to the house. Blair was seated on the couch with her head in her hands. He looked from her to the phone still off its jack and knew what had happened. When she looked over at him, her eyes were red but her mouth was set into a grim line. There was still dampness clinging to her long lashes, her face flushed what he did not doubt had been a recent flood of tears.

Tervain had told them to meet him on the roof of the federal building in an hour. Blair had already prepared herself for the inevitable; her things were within reach, stacked in a neat little pile. Rising to her feet and pulling on her designer coat, Blair flipped her hair out over the collar and handed him a pair of keys.

Josef took her by the arm, turning her to face him as she started for the garage. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he promised. She finished tying the sash of her coat and looked up at him. There was a sense of resignation in her eyes, as though she had come to terms with the nature of her impending fate. He expected a deep, heartfelt condolence, a reassurance that she would be at peace with whatever happened, but that was not Blair's style. There were no romantic flowery speeches or overt gratitude for hiding her the past two days, nothing beyond the two words she told him, accompanied with a broad and confident smile.

"I know."

He might have throttled her if it hadn't been so damned adorable.


	7. Chapter 7

The modernized federal building was a tall, imposing structure fitted with lions at the main entrance. They were enormous, carved out of solid marble and with wind-tousled manes, an intimidating statement of judgment on all who passed through the revolving doors. Everyone except the night watchmen had gone home for the night, and he was on his rounds. There was an embossed elevator that took them most of the way, the ride made in absolute silence. The drive up had been much the same, them choosing not to look at one another, as if to do so would shatter their mutual agreement this had to be done. With a faint pinging sound, the doors rolled open and let them out into the upper hall.

There were several doorways that led into spacious offices marked with impressive names, and one that fed onto the roof. Josef turned the knob and glanced up the narrow flight of stairs that ascended to the outdoors. He could make out the faint glow of the city lights above them as they climbed, encouraging her to wait in the shadows as he stepped out onto the flat rooftop, abandoned except for pieces of piping that had been left from the last reconstruction. It was cold at such a height and his senses tingled, sensing the vampire long before he set eyes on him.

A single figure stood up on the low stone railing that formed the outer foundation, his long black coat rippling in the wind that blew in from the sea, carrying with it the scent of an impending storm. It was still miles out but Josef knew it would be there before the morning. He approached but did not speak, confident Tervain was aware of his presence. There was a long pause before the man turned toward him, and Josef could make out the high cheekbones, the arched brow and the wideness of his eyes. Tervain was a handsome man by most accounts, a little older in appearance for all he had seen and taken part in, but the dangerous allure had not worn off over his decades of concealment. He was charismatic, and always had been. It was one of his most dangerous attributes.

"And to think the government believed they had caught the last of the war criminals," Josef remarked as his companion stepped down from the ledge. There was a glint in his eye despite the seriousness of the situation. "All those Nuremburg trials and accusations, and they never realized the man responsible for most of the bloody terror had escaped. I wasn't even certain you had survived."

"It takes more than bullets to kill me, Josef, as you well know. Not even Hitler's incompetent assassins could take me down when they wanted to. They were so foolish to threaten me, but they paid for it with their lives, with their blood. Can you blame me for going into hiding from a world no longer tolerant of my ideals?" Tervain still retained a hint of his accent, just enough to remind Josef of Berlin before the war. The scent of hot bread on the breeze, issuing from vendors that crowded the streets, girls bicycling on their way to school, charming little street side shops run by polite shopkeepers. That world had been great once, but it had fallen beneath the Gestapo, and changed in the long years since. Berlin was now ravished with a sense of guilt, echoing with the footsteps of thousands of soldiers.

They were circling one another discreetly, maintaining distance between them at all times, but sizing one another up. Josef was much older and more experienced than his adversary, but the harsh realities of life had made Tervain strong, sharpening his instincts. There was no haste in this meeting, nothing to indicate the current beneath it was deadly, that they hated one another with an inhuman passion. One blended into the mortal world, eternally amused or repulsed by it but ever intrigued in its advances, while the other clung to the past, preferring to live in darkness.

"So many years abroad, and yet you come here. Why?" Josef was watching every slight movement the man made, becoming familiar with Tervain's tendencies. Each vampire was different in a fight, for what they had been in life impacted them in death, granting them unique strengths and abilities. Mick had speed and force, Josef had intellect, and Tervain possessed brutality and cunning.

Tervain was smiling, but it was not a reassuring turn of the lips, rather a cold one that did not quite reach his eyes. They were cold and hard, twin dark pools set into the prominence of his features. They were lifeless, like those of a shark swimming in the darkness of the seabed. "Is not America the land of opportunity?" he asked. "Men have come here for hundreds of years desiring to make a new life for themselves, to possess whatever it is they desire… wealth, power, influence. It was baptized in blood, those of the natives and the greedy, anyone who stood between humanity and their unceasing quest for meaning. Where there is opportunity, there is possibility, and I am no different than those that have come before me. But you would prefer I was still in Berlin, eh?"

"I would prefer you were in hell."

The panoramic view of the city around them was magnificent, so many lights glowing that the skies above were diminished in an ethereal golden haze. It was never completely dark in Los Angeles, but there were shadows enough for the creatures that prowled the streets. Retreating to the ledge overlooking the street so far below, Tervain said, "They are like ants, these humans … scurrying about the nest doing as they are told in the beginning, but as they grow older, they become more aware of the world, of the choices given to them every day. Some of them make terrible choices, Josef, and that is where true madness is born. Not in a glorious explosion so much as a single decision that opens the door to dark possibilities."

Tervain slipped his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, unmoving apart from the wind that teased the long tresses of his burnished hair. He was enjoying this moment, the acknowledgement that Josef was beginning to comprehend how and why this nightmare had begun, that it was because of sheer creativity and the vast opportunities of the modern world that he had brought his unique brand of violence to foreign shores. "You understand it now, don't you? You know why I have come for her."

"What I understand is that you have truly gone insane. What have you done with Carmilla?" Josef could not stand this a moment longer, listening to this madman attempt to justify his behavior, to attempt to make him see that it was no more than supply and demand, to believe humans were so callous that they might resent one another into an early grave. He wondered how Tervain had succeeded, how he had made contact with the desperate young men that turned to him for retribution against the women that had wronged them, that had humiliated them, that had refused their advances and flirtations. He wondered at a world in which a vampire might be hired to kill someone, but not to put a bullet in their brain or a knife in their gut, but to make it a slow and torturous death.

A snarl crossed his companion's features. The façade was at an end, the mask torn away to reveal the hideousness beneath, the air crackling with tension as the hair lifted on the back of their necks and they glared at one another. It was not the polite, distant society man that now stood before Josef, but the murderer of Auschwitz, the brilliant mind behind many of the modern forms of prolonged torture. "You pretend to understand these humans, to identify with them, even to like them, but deep in your soul, you know what they are, Josef, nothing more than animals!"

"Animals or not, you could not survive without them. Tell me where she is!"

He had not noticed that Blair was no longer in the shadows, but had crept across the roof behind him. He had not sensed her mood as it sharpened, her instincts as they tightened, her presence as it merged with another's, only knew where she was by the sound of her voice. "She is here," Blair cried out, perhaps to halt the intensity between them, to prevent what she feared would become violent. It drew their attention to her, and the crumpled figure at her feet. Carmilla was alive but half unconscious, lying there in her business suit, looking all the world as though she had just walked out of court. There was nothing in Josef that responded to seeing her like that, no emotion, no rush of concern, nothing, and that alone horrified him.

In the split second his head was turned, Tervain lunged for a man he had looked upon as an adversary for so many years, someone who in his eyes betrayed what it meant to be a vampire. His movements were quick despite the fact that he had not put them to such strenuous use in many years. Blair cried out a warning but it was not time enough to dodge the glancing blow, which brought out the vampire in him, a murderous expression returning to his eyes, a heightened sense of the area around him, an awareness of his adversary's strengths and weaknesses. He was barely aware of what was happening, only that they were moving as intricately as if they were dancing, but it was not friendship that prompted each step, each stroke.

There was blood around them, whose he could not know, only that pain was spiraling through his limbs as Tervain grasped the end of a piece of piping and struck him with it, forcing him to the ground. "STOP!" Blair screamed, and the demand alone caused the hand to cease its torment, his assailant lifting his gaze to find that she was leveling a revolver at his chest.

Amusement played across his face. "Do you really think a bullet is going to stop me, little girl?"

There was a hollow clang as the pipe hit the rooftop and bounced away, rolling to a stop against the edge of the railing. Blair backed up several paces as Tervain advanced toward her, her hand trembling but managing to keep the gun pointed squarely at his chest. His burning yellow eyes were terrifying, their murderous intentions clear but not enough to prompt her to squeeze the trigger. She was many things, but a murderer was not among them.

Josef watched through a pain-induced haze as Tervain snatched her by the throat, causing her to drop the weapon as he lifted her off the ground. He was choking her, but not tightly enough that she ceased to breathe, only that it was painful for her to do so. He pushed her against the side of the stairwell and went for her throat, but three shots rang out from the gun Blair had dropped, the one she had found in Josef's bedside table, the one he kept for his own protection, the one filled with silver bullets. It oozed from the wounds in his chest as Tervain staggered backwards, dropping Blair and looking in an absolute rage at Josef, who was still holding the smoking revolver. Three bullets was not enough to stop him, but it would slow him down.

Throwing the weapon to the ground and snatching up the piece of pipe, Josef struck Tervain across the chest with it. The movement was enough to send him crashing into the railing, bits of it giving way beneath his weight. One hand reached out and caught Josef by the arm as he fell, toppling over the edge of the roof and drawing his adversary after him. It was a long way into the street below, the impact breaking every bone in their bodies as they slammed into the roof of a parked car. Josef had taken such a beating on the roof that he could hardly recover as he rolled off the hood to the ground, Blair's screams still resounding in his ears. The car alarm had gone off at impact and was piercing the night air, competing with the distant sounds of traffic and the hum of the electrical lights.

He shuddered as he felt his bones mend, too weak to stand but strong enough to crawl toward the wall of the building and climb to his feet. Tervain was weaker still from the silver in his veins, but was starting to move his fingers. Lowering his gaze, Josef saw the steady stream of oil flowing into the street, spreading in a deadly puddle across the pavement. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out an embossed silver lighter. Mick thought he was mad for carrying it around with him. Fire was one of only two things that could kill a vampire. But Josef had always known there would be a use for it one day. He watched the blue flame as it sprang to life beneath the flick of his fingers, staring at it for a moment before he tossed it into the street.

In what seemed like slow motion, the flame spread away from him, surrounding the vehicle where his old adversary remained immobile. There was a magnificent explosion that ended the incessant sound of the alarm as the car rose off the ground beneath the immense fireball that tore through the gas tank. Sparks shot forty feet into the air, raining down on the blacktop outside the building, the noise setting off every other alarm within a twenty block radius. The level of noise was incredible. Behind him, the doors burst open and then Blair was in his arms, watching the burning rubble with amazement, wondering how he had managed to survive. She held onto him, her arms closed around his midsection, oblivious to the fact that Carmilla had stumbled out behind her, pale but fully aware of her surroundings.

"What happened?" Blair asked when she could speak again.

There was so much to tell her, but only one response to offer. "It's over," he said. Flames were licking the vehicle, and the distant sounds of sirens were coming to them on the breeze. There would be no remnants of Tervain left, nothing to indicate a great and terrible man had perished there, that the world had lost one of its most infamous madmen, only black smoke that poured into the skies. Blair kept her arms around him, protectively, as though fearing he was not yet completely safe, but it was Carmilla who had to help him, who did so without question as they helped him to the car he had parked in the alley. Giving Blair the keys, Carmilla ordered her to drive as she climbed into the backseat with Josef. Blair was pale and shaken, glancing frequently into the mirror, but did as she was told. From her perspective, it must have looked innocent enough, Carmilla brushing the hair away from Josef's face and reassuring him that he would live, but in reality the hand drifted down to his mouth and pressed against it, pain crossing her face as his teeth sank into her flesh. He could feel her heart pounding through her veins, and could not help but be grateful that she cared enough to help him one last time. He knew without asking that this was the end, that he would never taste her again, that she had seen enough to want no further part in his world.

Her eyes flickered forward to rest on Blair, who forty-eight hours earlier had seemed so different, who was driving with confidence as she took them home. It was Blair who activated the gate, who drove through it, who parked in the garage and got out to pull open the second door. It was Blair who reached in for him and was astonished when he came out fully recovered, Blair who hung onto him as he wrapped his arms around her in reassurance that he was all right, Blair protested when he took up another set of keys. But it was not over yet.

There was one final thing he had to do.


	8. Chapter 8

Four hundred years and nothing had changed, at least not when it came to human behavior. The modern surroundings were often better, for most of these trysts came in air-conditioned apartments rather than the barn lofts that had been popular when he had been turned, but Josef had seen it all play out before, the desire for revenge, the jealousy and hatred that prompted rivalries, the ambition to make someone else suffer for your humiliation or abandonment. But for as much violence and hatred as he had seen over the centuries of his existence, rarely had he known any human with quite as much bloodlust as Brian imbibed. Blair had told him just enough that he had become a natural suspect from the beginning, a willing participant in the events that had unfolded over the last several days.

The drive over had been full of careful considerations, of determining just how the situation was to be approached, of how much fear of death and damnation should be put into someone who so openly had engaged in such brutally murderous behavior. It was not merely Brian, for there were obviously many of them, at least a half dozen who had found Tervain and paid him to deal with their former girlfriends, never realizing what they were setting into motion. And eventually, most of them would be dealt with, but there was something personal in approaching Brian, for without his intervention and influence, Blair would have never stumbled into that alley. She would have never known the horrors that had plagued her over the weekend, or watched her friend die before her very eyes. She would have never known about him.

Life continued as normal in the neighborhood that housed the apartment buildings where Brian so comfortably resided. There was a block party going on in the lower level as Josef climbed the stairs, drawing the attention of all the girls on their way up or down. Lustful eyes followed him the length of the way, curious about the well-dressed figure that had emerged into their midst just long enough to create tension. He knew Brian was among the throng and did not bother looking for him, instead ducking out a window when he knew no one was watching and leaping across to the balcony outside the man's apartment. Someone thought to have noticed him on the lawn below, but he moved so quickly that she thought it a mere indication that she'd had too much to drink as she turned back to her friends.

The young man that came along the corridor with his arm wrapped around a particularly friendly blonde fitted his key without thought into the lock. He did not expect anything out of the ordinary. He had no reason to. They entered and he kicked the door shut with his foot, wrapping her in his arms as their lips met hotly, her fingers sliding his jacket from his shoulders. She was soft in his embrace, warm, the taste of brandy still on her lips. Josef could sense their intensity from across the room, the yearning both of them felt for one another, the desire to be wanted as much as they needed to be loved. It would have caused him to roll his eyes if he had not been so annoyed. Giving them a few seconds more of blissful ignorance of being observed, he reached across and turned the light on above the bar.

Startled, they drew their heads back and stared at him in open astonishment, the woman curious at his appearance and her companion irritated at the interruption. There was something hypnotic about him, in the sharp angles of his features and the intensity of his brownish green eyes. His presence was overwhelming once it was noticed, overpowering the room with an immense feeling of importance despite the fact that it was an unwanted intrusion. Beneath the bar was an impressive collection of expensive champagne flutes. Josef lifted one them and studied it in the light, marveling at how it glinted in so many faint colors beneath the delicate touch of his hand.

"You really do surprise me, Brian," he remarked with absolute calm. "I came here anticipating a general lack of class, given what others have told me about you, but you have surprisingly decent taste for a graduate. I have not seen such magnificent crystal in… two hundred years?" The casual nature of the last remark brought instant recognition into the man's eyes. The anger that come in a rush at finding him in the apartment cooled almost instantly, replaced with a trace of fear and mistrust. It was clear that he had grasped what he was up against, even if he did not yet know the reason for this unexpected visit. Every muscle in his muscular body tensed, but he made no movement to indicate he was intimidated.

Cautiously, he inquired, "Who are you?"

Lining up the crystal flutes on the bar, all two dozen of them, shimmering in the soft light, Josef replied, "An acquaintance of one of your associates. I'm sure you remember him. European, speaks with a hint of a German accent, seems much older than he looks." He smiled as all the color drained from the young man's face. He looked as though he might be physically ill, incapable of forming a coherent response. What seemed like moments but was in reality a matter of seconds passed before he turned to his date and said, "Darling, would you mind waiting outside in the hall for just a moment? There's something this man and I must speak privately about."

It was clear that she was not pleased with being cast out into the hall, but she went without comment. Once the door closed behind her, Brian came forward with a sense of panic in his movements, turning anxious eyes on Josef who was still standing at the bar, his interest in the glasses rather than his companion. "Look, I don't know what you want from me, but I can pay you. I'll pay you a lot to leave me out of this."

"You're already involved."

Leaning against the edge of the marble top, Josef picked up one of the glasses and held it up to the light, watching it shimmer through the perfect edges. He was enjoying the panic in the young man's voice, the way his body temperature was rising, his heart beating faster with the fear pulsing through his veins. Humans were like venison; the more calm they were at the point of death, the better they tasted, but there was a certain sharpness to their adrenaline that was almost like a drug. He held out the glass over the floor and, his gaze never wavering from Brian's face, dropped it. It made a delightfully expensive sound when it shattered. His companion flinched.

"What do you want?" Brian begged as Josef picked up another champagne flute.

"Now that is an interesting question. What _do_ I want?"

The glass slipped from his fingers and broke on the floor.

"There are just so many things I miss from the past."

Each sentence was punctuated with the sound of breaking glass.

"The massacres in Prague. Those were fun. The time I attended one of Dickens' lectures in London and dined out afterward. That was memorable. Oh, and then there's the time I tore someone limb from limb. He did deserve it, for setting my lover on fire. I thought I had seen it all, and then I came here. America, the land of opportunity. They might not know a damn thing about fine crystal, but they do know something about revenge. I might even be impressed if I weren't so infuriated."

Brian was backing away, afraid that once Josef ran out of champagne flutes he might start breaking other things. It was not such an irrational fear, for as the last one split into delicate glass fragments across the polished hardwood floor, Josef began moving toward him across the room. "What do I want?" he repeated, aware that his prey was backing into a corner. "What I want most is to have some fun. To taste the bloodlust again. You never have experienced anything like it, have you? No human can, for as hungry as they get, as insulted as they feel, as infuriated as they become, none of it ever comes near to that all-encompassing rage that flows through a vampire's veins. You can't have a proper massacre without bloodlust."

His eyes were clouding over, filling with the shimmering golden haze that came over him whenever he fed. It was the most terrifying thing most humans had ever seen. Brian had come to the last inch of space in the room and stopped, flinching as Josef brought his hand down hard on the wall beside him. Sweat was beginning to glisten on the young man's temples. He swallowed, his Adams apple bobbing as he whispered, "Please don't…"

"Don't what? Spatter you across these four walls? Leave you abandoned and choking on your own blood in some dark alley? Rip your throat out like you wanted Tervain to do to Blair? All because she insulted your pride, because you couldn't get her into bed with you? I have met some pathetic losers in my time, Brian, but you pretty much outrank them all. Whatever possessed you to set a monster like Tervain loose on an unsuspecting girl? Did you really think seeing her mangled body splashed across the front page of the newspaper was going to make you feel more like a man? I doubt it, but maybe seeing yours will bring her some peace of mind."

Gripping Brian hard by the collar, Josef sent him crashing through the window onto the balcony, broken glass tumbling down around him as he scrambled to his feet. He barely had time to respond before Josef's fingers were on his lapels and he was shoved up against the edge of the iron railing. There was so much noise and confusion on the floors below that no one took any notice of them. "I fell six stories tonight and lived," the vampire hissed through his gleaming white teeth. "Do you think you're that fortunate?"

Wide-eyed, the college boy stammered, "Please don't kill me."

There was no reason why he shouldn't, why he didn't just pitch Brian headfirst over the railing and have done with it, but that would have been too easy, too simple, too sudden. One brief instant and it would be over, crushed, demolished forever, when there was more suffering to be gathered from this incident, more nightmares to be created in the tormented mind of a man forced to constantly look over his shoulder, wondering when his number was up. There was no indecision involved, no hesitation, for Josef had never intended to kill him, just put an unholy fear into him. Someone had once told him that death should be a reward, not a punishment. He would let Brian live.

It was only a few hours till morning, but for once Josef looked forward to the coming of the dawn, for it meant these matters were at an end. He could return to his former life of convenience and security. There would be eventual justice for the mortals involved. Beth was smart enough that if he pointed her in the right direction, she would find something to stick to the men who had taken such ruthless revenge on their girlfriends. Carmilla had packed and left the house by the time he had returned. It was an unspoken agreement between them that he let her go without comment or objection, but nevertheless the house felt empty without her presence. Blair was gone as well. He had not really expected her to wait for him. It was relieving to live out his life without encumbrances, to return to his office late that afternoon to attend to the few business matters that demanded his attention.

The spacious room with its expensive furniture and dark paneling suited him, the extent of his phone calls indifferent after the hell of the last forty eight hours. He did not really expect to see Mick, but was unsurprised when his friend showed up shortly before closing time, removing his baseball cap to reveal slightly unruly dark hair and a pair of scrutinizing eyes. There was something deeply attractive about Mick, something that caused people to trust him without rhyme or reason. There was nothing macabre in his nature, nothing dangerous that he could not easily control, a feat that most vampires found challenging. People came frequently into his life and always left feeling as though he had helped them, as though he had brought them some hope or reassurance that the world was not as really dark as it seemed.

"I trust you're recovered after your staking," Josef remarked dryly as Mick prowled the office, looking out over the city that unfolded beneath them through the tinted windows. It was dark enough that some of the street lights were coming on throughout the valley, the sunset obscured by the rain that was finally coming in from the west. "You're fortunate he left you in the dumpster rather than taking you back to his little house of horrors. I understand he was particularly fond of bolt cutters."

Mick had a miraculous voice, soothing and quiet but always to the point. "You're certain he's dead?"

He glanced across at his companion as the first drain drops began to hit the window, painting the interior with a surreal series of shadows. Josef was residing in the chair behind his desk, propping up his head on one finger. There was no change to his tone as he responded, "Went up like a Jack-o-Lantern on Halloween." He liked Mick, even though he could be a bit stubborn at times about who and what he was. Mick wanted to pretend he was human, to avoid addressing the fact that he needed blood to survive, to pretend he did not wish every day that he had never been turned, that his ill-fated wedding night had ended differently than in tormented pain and suffering. The reassurance that he had witnessed Tervain's demise left them with little to say that did not involve Beth, and she was one topic Mick did his best to avoid. He wanted to deny there was not an avid sexual tension between them.

The rain was now coming down more persistently, trickling against the glass. Even though Mick did not thank him for saving his life, it was mutually understood between them as he left, his footsteps fading down the hall into the emptiness of the building. Most of his associates had gone home, closing down their offices for the evening, but Josef did not want to leave just yet. He didn't want to return to his empty house with so many thoughts swirling in his head. Standing before the window, he stared out into the impending darkness. It was peaceful to close out the world beyond the proximity of this room, to consider the weight that had lifted from his shoulders. And yet there was something missing.

He knew the moment she entered the room, her heels making not a sound on the thick carpet. Her scent was one of delicacy, the faintest hint of rose petals as she came up behind him. His face had been composed of utter seriousness but now relaxed into the faintest traces of a smile as she deliberately stepped in front of him, leaning against the cold glass in a deliberate attempt to block his panoramic view. Her beautiful eyes were rimmed in eyeliner, but even that could not make the look she gave him severe. "You ran out on me last night without an explanation," she said softly.

"Do you expect one now?"

He refrained from touching her, despite the fact that she was so near. Blair tilted her head as she looked at him, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder as she left an impression on the glass. It was steaming slightly around her, a reaction to her warm skin against the dropping temperature outdoors. Black fingernails found his lapel and drew him toward her, her lips hovering just beneath his as she whispered, "Not really. Something tells me you're not much for sharing your secrets." She was teasing him. He hadn't been teased in years. Women had given up on that tactic long ago, and he found it exhilarating that she was just clever enough to make use of it. He never moved, allowing her to breathe in the scent of his aftershave.

"I ran into Brian this morning."

"Did you?"

"When he saw me, he practically flattened one of his professors running the other way. You didn't have anything to do with that, did you?"

Of course not. The words made it into his head but not to his mouth as he looked at her. She knew better than that. In fact, he could see just a trace of amusement in her beautiful eyes. The premise of an ice cream sundae and paid shopping spree at Bendell's could not have made her happier. Pulling away from the window, she stood so near to him that they were almost one in the shadow they cast across the far wall, and offered him her wrist. The motion shocked him, but he would have thought it absurd if she hadn't known, if she had not wondered how he managed to survive such a fall, how she was so inexplicably drawn to him where all others had failed. It had become apparent when he had fought Tervain what he was, what they both were, and yet she had come to him without fear, offering what she had to give.

His astonishment must have shown because it caused her to smile. "It's more obvious than you would think, Josef," she whispered. "You need me, don't you?" There was such assurance on her face. She was convinced that she was right, one of her more maddening traits. The rain was falling behind them, the haze in the room darkening. But it wasn't true.

"No, I don't need you."

It was as if she had been struck. Her enormous eyes changed shades as she stepped back from him. Hurt filled her face. She turned away from him and got several paces toward the door before he said her name. "Blair." No more and no less, but it was enough to cause her to stop. He was coming toward her and again she held out her hand, this time with more of a tremor as his fingers curled around it, lifting it to his lips. They caressed her skin, so soft and perfect, before he pulled her into a kiss. Her body pressed against his as he held her in his arms, his lips parting hers with increasing urgency as he felt relief flood through her.

He did not need her, or her blood, or the chaos that she brought into his life.

But he wanted her.

There was a difference.


End file.
